


rock, flag & eagle

by postalcoast



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Fireworks, Fourth of July, M/M, happy belated bday captain america chris evans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postalcoast/pseuds/postalcoast
Summary: The boys enjoy summer and its holidays just as they always do: at one of Dutch's larger than life get-togethers.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	rock, flag & eagle

**Author's Note:**

> [Ryu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_No_Joou) gave me the idea of john & arthur watching fireworks & naturally I had to write a fic about it.

Summers are always like this. 

Seems Dutch was always looking for some excuse or another to host a grand gathering for everyone to attend. Dinner parties in the spring, costume parties on Halloween. The man even celebrated Old Christmas on the 6th of January, as well as New Christmas on the 25th of December as an excuse to have two separate gatherings. 

Two different rounds of Secret Santa that John always seemed to manipulate, so John would get Arthur and Arthur would get him. Arthur couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t draw John’s name, he doesn’t even open the slip of paper anymore to look. 

And as far as holidays went, July the fourth was definitely no exception. 

Arthur never classified Dutch as a die-hard patriot, as he never really classified himself as such, either. Nor anyone in the gang for that matter. 

Always in favor of having something to be loyal to and to have something to believe in, Dutch was known to spout off some speech about being loyal to America and its freedom and some of the better ideas that it stood for. 

As tradition would have it, July the 4th is spent at Dutch and Hosea’s. As tradition would have it, Arthur and John are always the first to arrive. 

Dutch greets them with a warm smile and a clap on the back, cigar dangling from his mouth. Hosea finds them in the living room, after Arthur’s settled himself down on Dutch’s expensive leather couch and John has plopped himself down beside him. 

“Boys, you’re early,” Hosea says, and greets them with a smile just as warm. 

John’s already sprawled back on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV, as if the fifteen-minute drive from their house has drained every bit of energy left within him. Hosea catches them up on any last-minute groceries they need before the others arrive, sometimes handing Arthur a neatly written list if the items are plentiful enough. 

This time, it’s simple. A couple of bags of ice and hamburger buns. Beer and whiskey. 

“John, get your feet off the coffee table,” Hosea says before disappearing back out into the hallway, and he doesn’t even look at John when he says it. He doesn’t have to. 

John’s developed a routine of propping his feet up when Hosea and Dutch ain’t looking, but ever the wiser - Dutch and Hosea are always one step ahead. John drags his feet off the table, grumbling about the eyes in the back of Hosea’s head, and props them up in Arthur’s lap instead.

After a while, Arthur pats one of John’s legs, gaining another grumble from John before they’re back up and out the door. They pile back up in Arthur’s truck and they head for the nearest general store and the nearest liquor store. 

Arthur runs in and grabs the hamburger buns, leaving an all too enthusiastic John to remain in the truck. Leaned back in the passenger’s seat with his attention focused down to the cell phone in his hands. Arthur’s sure if John’s legs weren’t quite so long, he’d have his boots propped up on the dashboard, too. Arthur also knows that when he gets back in the truck, John will have the radio turned to some punk rock station.

This time, Arthur doesn’t bother changing it back when he gets back in the truck. He sees John glance up at him out of the corner of his eye, like John’s expecting him to keep up the routine. But, hell, what’s the point of keeping up a routine if you don’t break it every once in a while.

John does, however, accompany Arthur in the liquor store, following behind him through the aisles and picking up bottles of whiskey that suit his own liking rather than those in the gang. John claims to have expensive taste when it comes to whiskey, but Arthur knows it’s more so for the trendy Instagram posts than anything. 

John’s quick to remind Arthur of how middle-aged he sounds when he goes to complain about everyone’s desire to put a picture of every bottle of Jack Daniel’s they buy on every social media platform. Arthur’s even quicker to remind John that he’s only a few years away from approaching middle-age, himself.

Arthur’s caught John drinking some of his own off-brand whiskey occasionally, though. Sometimes, they’ve shared a bottle out in the bed of Arthur’s truck underneath a night sky full of stars and John never complained.

“Why’re we getting light beer,” John more so complains than inquires from behind Arthur when he picks up a couple of cases. “Who the hell drinks light beer?”

“Dutch,” Arthur says, turning around to shove a case into John’s free hand. “Bill, and sometimes Uncle.”

When they arrive back at Dutch and Hosea’s, there are plenty more cars parked outside. Sean’s compact, Bill’s pickup, Sadie’s diesel.

Arthur, with John in tow, carries in the drinks, ice, and hamburger buns and places them in their respective homes before joining the rest of the group outside in the backyard. 

The sun’s still set high in the sky, beaming down a sweltering heat across the fenced-in yard. Karen’s already seated on Sean’s shoulders in the pool, Lenny’s already making his way for the diving board, and Abigail’s seated on the edge, feet dipped into the shallow end, watching as Jack splashes about nearby. 

Dutch is standing at the grill, the Hawaiian shirt he wore earlier now fully unbuttoned, and tan loafers now abandoned somewhere in the house. Arthur takes the hamburger buns over to Hosea, who stands next to Dutch, margarita in hand, and smile still in place.

The very,  _ very  _ large collection of fireworks that Sean was in charge of getting is piled up beside the backdoor and Arthur notices  _ John _ noticing them automatically.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Arthur says, pulling John’s attention back to him. “Last time you got ahold of the fireworks, one of them turned over and nearly shot off inside the house.”

“Like you didn’t nearly burn your hand off last year, Morgan,” John retorts, but the smirk that’s occupying his features is one that suits him, Arthur finds. He kinda wants to kiss him right now, but he’ll have all the time in the world for that later.

“Cause  _ someone _ left me in charge of watchin’ his sparklers,  _ Marston, _ ” Arthur gets him right back, and John’s smirk turns into a full-fledged grin. One that Arthur can’t help but mirror, himself. “Seein’ as  _ that  _ and the bag snaps are the only kind of fireworks you’re allowed to be near.”

“If you and Sean take to throwing them at people’s feet again this year,” Dutch quips from behind them. “The both of you will only get to  _ watch  _ the fireworks.”

The humid, mid-day heat is enough to persuade Arthur into the pool about half an hour later, and it’s enough to convince John to linger in the shallow end with Jack. Sometimes Arthur can get John in the deep end, but it’s usually with John in a chair float and Arthur holding onto the end of it, guiding John around. Sometimes Arthur manages to get John to abandon the float, only to let John cling onto his back, arms wrapped over his shoulders as Arthur makes sure to stay close to the pool walls in case John’s bravery was to fade.

Jack seems to be just as unwilling to gain his water wings as his father is, never one to stray far from the steps in the shallow end. That’s where Arthur stays for now, however, backed into a corner of the pool, passing a Water Bomb back and forth between John - who’s seated on the pool steps, submerged halfway in the water and Jack, who’s off a little ways from the two of them. They form a lopsided triangle, one that provokes the danger of getting beaned in the head to anyone that passes between them.

Arthur does get his opportunity to steal a kiss from John, however, when the sun has set and the sky is dark enough to see the array of beautiful, vivid colors that the fireworks bring. 

Everyone’s moved out on the front lawn, seated in fold-out chairs, or lounged back on blankets in the grass. 

Lenny and Javier are in charge of lighting the fireworks this year, and watching them scramble away after lighting the fuse always has John laughing. It has Arthur laughing, too. 

He and John share a blanket out on the grass - Arthur’s laid back, propped back up on his elbows and John sits beside him, cross-legged and eating from a bag of chips that he’ll occasionally hand back to Arthur in offering.

Another round of fireworks is set off, John laughs at Javier as he hurtles back to safety, and bright colors are released out into the sky, gaining some whoops and noises of awe from the group. 

John’s face is lifted up towards the sky, watching as the colors expand across his face, illuminating his features in hues of pinks, greens, blues, and reds. Arthur glances up at the sky, and then back at John and can easily decide which view is the most beautiful.

“Hey,” Arthur says, and it’s quiet against the screeching of the fireworks but loud enough for John to hear, and John looks over his shoulder at him. Mouth still ajar and eyes still soft with admiration. 

Arthur sits up all the way, hand tangling itself in John’s hair and he kisses him. Soft and warm as every kiss they’d shared before now. 

John’s hand abandons the forgotten bag of chips that Arthur can taste on John’s lips, and goes to settle on Arthur’s shoulder and he meets Arthur with kisses just as sweet.

A few more whoops break out in the air nearby, ones that sound distinctively like Mary-Beth and Tilly, maybe even Charles, and Arthur isn’t sure if it’s due to the fireworks or to them. He doesn’t really find himself caring. 

Summers are always like this. 

The smell of grilled burgers, sunscreen, and freshly mowed grass. And with John here accompanying him through all of it, it’s something Arthur could live through a thousand times. Again and again. 


End file.
